


meme, I has meme. Ultimates Sam Wilson

by ballpoint



Category: Marvel Ultimates
Genre: 1610, Gen, Ultimates - Freeform, sam wilson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-08
Updated: 2009-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-04 06:37:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballpoint/pseuds/ballpoint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Speculative fic - ten moments in Sam Wilson's life (Ultimates)</p>
            </blockquote>





	meme, I has meme. Ultimates Sam Wilson

**Author's Note:**

> meme, I has meme. Ultimates Sam Wilson (1610 fic)
> 
>  
> 
> 1\. Pick a character, fandom, pairing, friendship, whatever.  
> 2\. Put on your music program on shuffle/random and start playing songs.  
> 3\. For each song, write something inspired by the song related to the theme you chose earlier. You only have the song length. No pre-planning and no writing after the song is over. No skipping songs either.  
> 4\. Do 10 songs and post. Make sure to include the song name/artist.
> 
> A/N : Spoilers Ultimate Gah Lak Tus, Ultimates Annual no 2. Ultimates Sam isn't in the verse much, alas. Cheers to [](http://valtyr.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**valtyr**](http://valtyr.dreamwidth.org/) for giving it an eye over and exercising great restraint.   
> Disclaimer: Characters are property of Stan Lee and Marvel. No money is being made from this fan effort.

**1\. I Remember You. Harry James and His Orchestra. 3:29**

Sam doesn't get into the cities much. He tells himself it's because his work doesn't allow him to. He's called back this time because of Gah Lak Tus and he answers because he's a soldier first and a scientist a close second. Now he's here in the lab, working on the humanoid. The Vision says she is a scribe, ready to record the earth's history from its ashes and husk. Sam ignores that.

"Music," she says, her voice sounds like metallic pipes rolling on top of each other as the notes distant and faint, dance on the air. Sam takes off his protective goggles, and wipes at his eyes. They will save earth yet.

**2\. Clam, Cockle, Cowrie. Joanna Newsom. 4:02**

Sam is in the deepest thicket of the Amazon, and he likes it here. The thickness of the canopy overhead, the air so humid and _hot_, his bones feel as if they are liquid inside his skin. He rests against the trunk of a tree, willing the sun to shine through its canopy, but senses the slightest shift in temperature, knowing that clouds have come to steal across the sun, doing the first of the dance of the seven veils. Instead of the haze burning off the sun however, it's piled on. He hears the rumble in the distance as the rain and thunder _rolls_ on top of the forest, the drumming of water on the leaves heralding its presence. The water drenches his clothing, makes his skin wet and suddenly he's a part of the earth, and it is good and right.

**3\. Three Little Babes. Joanna Newsom 3:42**

Remembrance Sunday - it is not an American tradition, no, but it is war and Sam recognises the loss that it brings. He stands there just outside Lakenheath airbase, looks over the green of the fields, sees the red haze of poppies against the bleached wooden miniature crosses.   
"It doesn't change," Sam sighs.   
Steve is beside him, hands at his sides as they look out and over. The minute is as long as a lifetime, as quick as a wink. "No," Steve says, his features grim. "It never does."

 

**4\. Once Upon a Time. R Newman 1:10**

When Sam meets Tony Stark for the first time, he notes this; Tony Stark is a bright man. Brighter than the shine in his eyes, but as he slurs over the variables of Gah Lak Tus and what they might mean, Sam is forced to re evaluate.

**5\. Symphony No 9. Beethoven . 1:16**

Flying is its own symphony. Sam swoops on the eddies of the winds, gives himself over to tumbles and turns. The mission at hand is serious business, and he is treating it with the gravity it deserves. Really. When Sam flies towards the sun, his wings still sturdy and not wax warmed, his mind flashes on Icarus, and closing his eyes, he holds himself back from flying too far up.

**6\. Sawdust and Diamonds. Joanna Newsom. 9.55**

The floor of the van vibrates under Sam's seat and thighs. He can taste dust on his lips and wipes at the grit in his eyes. Steve Rogers is staring straight ahead, his face is a mess of grim lines.

"How can you--" he sputters, before falling mute. However, the good Captain isn't a man to sit down and keep his thoughts to himself, and Sam is not surprised at Steve holding forth a few seconds later. "How can you live with it?" he finishes finally. "Living in a country that's so advanced and yet -- backwards at the same time?"

"You wear its flag," Sam's voice is mild and Steve pauses, looks at his costume and shield, then looks at Sam. "I believe in it -" he says finally. "I do, I fight because -"

"You don't know how to do anything else."

"Is that why you left the army?" Steve asks after a while, his voice still carries over the the rumble of the van and the growl of the engine. Sam shifts, trying to find a comfortable seat, but the sun beats around his head and shoulders and the air is dry and thick and stale.

"Perhaps," Sam says eventually. He isn't ready to share with anyone why he decided to leave the armed services, but. But Steve's out of his depth and Sam can recognise when a man is drowning, and throws a life preserver.

Sam links his fingers around his knees. "Life has stages, and the army was one. I needed to serve my country a different way."

Steve looks out at the road again and Sam follows his gaze. In this part of the country, the roads are paved paths to forever; the skies are burnt almost white by the sun, and Sam knows that he loves his country but he just cannot serve it in the way he wants to. Steve will come to that realisation soon enough. Sam just hopes that it doesn't hurt him too badly.

**7\. Freelove Depeche Mode 5:54**

_Okay_ , Sam admits to himself. He might like Misty Knight. She might just be the real thing. The fact that she doesn't give a rat's ass about Captain America, nor is she enthralled by Tony Stark. This is a big deal, because Stark is laying on the charm as thick as peanut butter. His hand strokes her sleek, metallic- "Arm," Tony says. "Darling, Stark Tech looks good on you."

Misty only smiles, not at Tony though, but at him, and Sam smiles at her in return. "That's the lay of the land, is it?" Tony sighs as he raises his glass in a toast and he disappears. Misty is still there though, and she sees him, _all_ of him. No matter how cool he might look in his dress whites, his pulse launches into a saumersault in a pike when she touches him and his mind breaks into static when he smells her perfume.

Freelove, eh? No strings to this attachment? They will have words about that later, and he will make her laugh.

 

**8\. Monkey and Bear. Joanna Newsom 9:29**

"Yeah, no. I don't want to be an Ultimate."

"C'mon, Sam," Clint said as they walked along the passage- one of the many passages - that the Triskelion boasted. Clint fell into step beside him, shoulders back, his shades hanging off the collar of his triskelion issue crew neck. "You've actually served. Even if it's army."

"You have Steve."

"Yeah, Steve." Clint's lips twitched. "You did good in that battle against Gah Lak Tus. You're smart... and sober."

"You sound like Nick Fury, man. Soon you'll be saying how I can be all I can be... in the Ultimates. Clint, just... no."

Clint sighed, and Sam almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"At least think about it? Seriously, between Tony's drinking, Steve's moralising, the Pym's... well."

"Say no more," Sam cut Pym off with a wave of his hand. "The Pyms are still together? On the team? This is why I will never _be_ in the country."

"I wish I could come with."

Sam smiled, shrugged his shoulders. "You could leave, Clint."

Clint stopped in midstride, his eyes were cold blue stones. "I wish I could. After Romanov..."

Sam swallowed. Yeah, he had heard about that bit of business State side. "Clint," Sam lifted his hand and patted Clint's shoulder. "Clint... staying here will kill you."

Clint stuck his shades on his face, and Sam couldn't see his eyes. "I'm already dead," he said.

**9\. This Side of The Blue. Joanna Newsom. 5:21**

When Sam was nine, he wanted to explore the Mississippi, like Huck Finn and Jim, living off their wits on the river. Sam dragged his 'raft' from the back of the house, tugged it over the bars of his bike and cycled down to the park.

If his sister ever finds out he took her kiddie pool, there will be a day of reckoning. Oh well, might as well he enjoyed himself now, he thought as he pushed the 'raft' from the shore, tugged it in the water and waded until the ground fell away from his feet. Sam scurried into the raft, landing on his back. The sky is the colour and texture of velvet, the moon so heavy that it tilts on its side. It is hanging so low, he could pick it and it would come away in his hand like overripe fruit. It's screwy how the moon might be millions of miles away and yet it is here in the boat beside him.

**10\. Home - Depeche Mode. 5:36**

When Sam comes home, he doesn't expect much. He sees Nick Fury from time to time in between debriefings. He attends the odd party thrown by Tony Stark (and for the life of him he can't see how being treated to the Cirque du Soleil might help boost morale, but he isn't the third richest man in America).

The high point of him coming stateside though is Steve Rogers. Steve's still with the Ultimates, and chomping at the bit to get out, but he still doesn't know it yet. Sam understands, but says nothing.

Tonight they are in the mess hall; the lights are dimmed, and the kitchen crew moves about, stripping down the canteen and putting things away. Steve doesn't ask for a warm meal (and he could, as befits his station), but settles for cold milk and saran wrapped sandwiches. Sam can and does actually respect that. They talk about his travels, and Steve's missions (mostly redacted, mind). They speak in code, their fingers drumming on the surface of the table, filling in the spaces their words might have.

This is plenty.

Fin


End file.
